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@dogboy*

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open season.

OPEN SEASON

@dogboy
24 / m / straight / 2♠️*

About Photos Questions Personality Compatibility

Details

My Self-Summary

His name is Kirma and he’s illiterate. I’m helping him fill this out, but honestly speaking, it’s a complete waste. Besides that, don’t you think his rank is unfairly high? Even though it’s still in the single digits, it’s not as if he wouldn’t be at home in the basement levels. If someone could send my complaints along to the house, I’d appreciate it.

My Future Plans

Surviving?

My Talents

Chasing sticks. Eating absurd quantities of garbage. Fouling up perfectly nice beds. Trampling flowers.

Favorite Books, Movies, Music, and Food

Meat.

My Ideal Partner

Someone skilled at training dogs.

Height 169cm / ~5’7 Body Type fine Smokes apparently Drinks i think so Drugs maybe Sign ? Education laughable Occupation unemployed Income unpaid Children none? Pets he is one Hobbies cooking

art credit: one. two. three. four. five.

01. WINE OR BEER

BEER

.02 CLOWNS OR MIMES

“WHAT'S A MIME”

.03 SHOWER OR BATH

NEITHER

.04 PIRATES OR NINJAS

PIRATES? WHY ARE THERE SO MANY OF THESE

.05 TITS OR ASS

.06 COFFEE OR TEA

.07 SPICY OR SWEET

.08 SUMMER OR WINTER

.09 LEATHER OR LACE

10. ROUGH SEX OR GENTLE SEX

Personality Type
ISFP-A

ENERGY73%
introverted
MIND76%
observant
NATURE66%
feeling
TACTICS54%
prospecting
IDENTITY75%
assertive

personality test. art credit.

hover for rating.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

That’s a start.

( the air remains somber, despite this. foolishly, he thinks this is earnesty being reciprocated, and though it helps to quell some of the doubts that have arisen, it makes him not quite ready to dive back into things. his left hand drops away from aventurine’s face to cover one of his own, a more distant hold compared to before; the other slides down along his neck— over the brand— and his fingers curl into his hair. )

I hope you can’t blame me for preferring to see you smile.

( but. the breath he exhales is something resembling a sigh. there is discomfort in sincerity too. his eyes no longer meet aventurine’s, and the hand that briefly covered his instead falls to rest on his leg, instead. language is a difficult thing, one that removes as much nuance as it adds. funny how that works. )

Edited 2024-04-19 02:42 (UTC)

( a sensible person would've asked for boundaries. a kinder person would have left, or been honest, or not even been there at all. aventurine is none of those things, so he stays, and doesn't flinch or twitch at the hand by his neck. his body language might not quite welcome this sort of behavior, but it's neutral enough that it doesn't give hints of any sort of uncomfortableness.

his luck works in such unreasonable ways. he's lucky to have kirma like him so much, trust him even; it's easier to manipulate him, easy to use him as a necessary chip to win this grand game. but it comes with consequences, with the first encounter with someone so earnest in far too many years. there's benefits to not being known; when the ipc's infamous name is not recognized, people are more likely to trust him. but it also means it does not come with the reputation attached to it, the threats, the intimidation.

and so, this happens. genuine feelings and an open heart. nothing aventurine deserves. )

Do I seem the kind who would? ( his tone hingers on something more playful, a light tease. it's his time to bring his hands to kirma's face, hold them gently.

he runs his thumb over his lips for a moment, his eyes falling to them. though his smile remains, aventurine finds irony in this. in knowing that when they kiss again, he's not going to like it at all. ) Lucky for you, I tend to smile a lot. Mind not our previous hiccup, it seems these new appendages of mine come with a few side-effects. ( and then softer, because everything with him is always measured, always calculated: ) But at the very least, rest assured that if I didn't want to be here with you, I wouldn't have come. And I would have long left. But have I?

( neither of them are sensible, by that mark. their motivations for being such just differ so wildly that kirma would not even begin to fathom the truth. how could he— it isn’t as though trusting him has led him astray, yet. at least— not as far as he knows. even something like the rank token is easily written off, an irrelevant detail compared to something so much simpler: company.

he turns his face into one of aventurine’s palms, chasing the touch of his thumb. the nuzzle, a surely dog-like gesture. his eyes close. were it not for the fucking game (haha) he could truly be satisfied with so little. given his overall disinterest in participating, he certainly hasn’t lacked for encounters; almost none of them had half the tenderness of this gesture alone. is it really artificial, if it can still pass for the real thing?

that isn’t a question for him to ponder. )

I suppose. ( mumbled against his palm. such simple logic can hardly be argued against. the soft pat, pat of his tail hitting against the bench as it wags further cements his acquiescence. there is little he wouldn’t do if asked in this moment, even the very thing he’d balked at mere moments prior. )

Then what else is it you want? ( … ) From the fox or not.

( what is it that he wants, indeed. logically, aventurine always lays out his plans meticulously, with little margin for error, minimizing his maximum losses, as a gambler is wont to do. he has gotten what he wants from kirma: his loyalty, and his future rank token. a debt to pay in the future was something to use in his favor, subverted by an unseen affection that he still isn't sure whether to empower or to turn down entirely. he has gotten something far better in exchange, doesn't need to make kirma indebt to him.

he could ask. he could exploit that affection. it would be the easy way out, and yet.

there's pressure on his thumb against kirma's lips, striving to pry them open and slip his finger in. kissing is easier when he initiates it; when he closes their distance again and takes his mouth, tongue and all. it's far hungrier and needier than all their other kisses, as though there are feeling to vent on it. maybe it's the inane desire of a fox to show dominance and claim territory. maybe it's a proper answer to that question. for all the roles that aventurine plays, the role of a fool is the one he's most proficient in.

he parts still, catches kirma's lip between teeth again and breaks skin, again, but licks at the blood, tastes the iron in his mouth. it's easier when it's rougher, but aventurine stays close enough that their lips brush against each other, and it mimics affection. )

How is that for an answer?

( satisfactory, for sure. a breath hitches and his ears flick briefly at the pain— but it's mild and, more than that, not unwelcome, judging by the way he leans in to chase as aventurine pulls back. each one of his manipulations, physical or not, kirma meets with an eagerness bordering on desperation. certainly a far cry from their previous liaison; this is so much closer to what he's used to, and thus is it so much easier to respond. a trickle of blood runs down his lips; he swipes it away with his tongue, eyes bright.

that's enough discussion, isn't it. his hands grab at aventurine with a renewed interest, nails digging into his hips as he tries to pull him closer, a vain attempt to eliminate all space between their bodies. he cannot say all his doubts have been quelled, of course, but they have been quieted enough to be left for the future, at a time with fewer foxes in his lap and more of his own saliva in his mouth. it isn't as though he's ended up where he has in life by being difficult to please. )

Aven, ( he says, in a whisper as soft as what the simulated clouds above their head attempt to promise. ) I—

( want you, perhaps, obviously. would do anything for you, just as likely. whether one of those or a secret third thing— it catches in his throat, words tangling into a snarl that comes out as a sigh. nevermind. kirma instead focuses his efforts into trying to pull another kiss out of him, rocking upwards with an arousal hardly disguised by his clothing. )

( that pretty much awakens something in him that is a struggle and a half to keep at bay, and aventurine recognizes it as a primal, animalistic desire that comes with a predator setting their eyes on a prey. a man with far less experience at controlling his feelings would've given in to temptation, would have brought teeth to the conjecture where jaw meets neck and bitten down, drawing blood and leaving marks and claiming a possession. a lesser man would've lunged for his throat and choked him there, pressed kirma down on the bench and forced him to forget everyone's names but his own.

and though aventurine can nearly picture himself doing both those things, neither becomes reality. instead, he finds room to bring a hand to kirma's jaw, a firm grip to keep him in place before he claims his mouth again with the same passion, but far more aggression. it's a messy kiss this time, engulfed in blind desire and animalistic need that doesn't suit a man like aventurine.

but in a place where aventurine doesn't hold the same weight to the name, does it really matter, what suits him or not? )

You what? ( his hand remains in place still, and it takes every ounce of control not to bite kirma a third time. he manages, at the very least, something close to a light-hearted tone. ) I'll reward you if you tell me your thoughts, so won't you be a good boy for me?

( there’s no resistance when aventurine seizes his face, only a soft whine as he yields to the kiss; by now, his fingers are digging in hard enough to leave bruises for the morning. locked in place though he is, kirma still meets aventurine with as much force as he can muster, occasionally straining against the hold but never once truly trying to break free of it. already, this is enough for him to forget what he’d been so worked up over, only moments before, mind blanking out in the face of desire— one very specifically focused on the man before him.

of course, this only serves to make aventurine’s request all the more devastating. be a good boy, he says, and kirma’s cheeks burn hot against his hand, ears folding back in equal parts placation and upset. were he in a better state, he might push back against this more, might try to snap back, but today… )

If you wanted to.

( clearly, a different thought from his initial one— but connected, all the same. )

I’d let you tear me apart, Aven.

( because he does recognize that predatory desire. it’s one he lives with every day, after all; in the end, though, he prefers seeing it reflected in someone else’s eyes. )

( what a dangerous thing to say, and worse still, aventurine can find the irony in this. that kirma gives him permission for something rougher, bloodier, the weight of feelings questionable but comfortable enough that aventurine doesn't mind indulging - yet still, just moments before had kirma denied him the same. had he been saner, he would have mused the possibility of them being much the same, welcoming that kind of treatment but denying giving it to others.

he won't think about that just yet. he won't think about much at all, when all those predator instincts flare up inside his body and it's harder and harder to make logical decisions.

it's much easier to push kirma down; to the side, where there's room, where he can be properly underneath him. it's a narrow, uncomfortable fit that aventurine can't find will to care, too focused on making sense of the feelings inside of him. instincts that don't belong to him, that tell him to claim what is rightfully his, that if he doesn't eat kirma, he will be the one eaten instead. )

You're making it hard for me, ( harder to keep his composure, harder to manage that light-hearted, easy-going tone. the way his tail wags behind him confesses to how excited his body, at the very least, is about this. ) Will you forgive me if I'm not too kind?

( his back hits the seat of the bench, and he shifts willingly to accomodate their change of position. one leg rises, ends up pinned between the bench and aventurine’s body, wood pressing in with sharp edges— a detail that might be relevant in circumstances less charged. today, kirma could not even begin to formulate a complaint, much less make one. his arms shift too, out of necessity, one finding its way about aventurine’s shoulders, the other wrapping around the bench as a brace and for lack of anywhere better to go.

and the question— kirma almost laughs, almost. as if such a thing wouldn’t be a kindness of its own, a pain to remember him by once he vanishes. for a real answer, he hums in a feigned thoughtfulness, as his head tilts back to expose more of his throat. surely, if those ears aren’t just for show, aventurine can recognize the true severity of such a gesture, in the way that an unblessed human never could.

in the end, kirma’s problem has always been that there’s little he wouldn’t forgive. if that has any potential to change, it certainly won’t happen here. )

Your kindness isn’t what I’m interested in, right now.

( it’s the closest thing to an outright lie he’s ever managed to say. )

( aventurine can't help but laugh; a broken, ragged laugh, because the irony of it all runs so deep that it's almost as though he's looking at a reflection of himself. he can hear his own voice say those exact words, behave that exact way. kirma flashes him his bare throat, and it takes everything in him not to lunge at it, bite down on flesh, maybe even rip it off his body. he could see the red of his blood clouding his vision, and aventurine would drink from it. when he remembers to be himself - as much of himself as he can be - and not a being controlled by primal, animalistic desires that feed on the instinct to prey or be preyed upon, is when he remembers to close his mouth, swallow down the saliva that threatened to spill from his mouth from drooling.

if nothing else, he's good at keeping his emotions in check. when he has so little control over so many aspects of his life, this, at the very least, he doesn't want to lose.

aventurine brings his lips down to kirma's throat, doesn't wholly trust himself not to rip it apart, but he manages kisses, at least, and when he bites down on it, he doesn't sink his teeth deep enough for anything past a mark. there's some composure to it all, though the same can't be quite said to his hands, that slither underneath his clothes and leave scratching marks in their wake. the more the merrier, his instincts tell him, aventurine is well aware nothing screams ownership more than a mark.

with a mind as clouded as his, he reaches for his pockets, pulling out a small vial. he leans down to take kirma's mouth again, a quicker, chaste kiss this time, before he shows it off to him. it's lube. i swear to god if kirma doesn't know what lube is. )

Prepare yourself to me. Do you think you can do it? ( it's a fake request, because he'd just teach kirma otherwise, ) I want to see you do it.

( little does aventurine know, that giving in to his instincts here would be worth something, from kirma’s perspective. then maybe his blood could be worth something, sprayed across the gardens, staining aventurine’s teeth and lips. any animal can be prey if it falls into another creature’s jaws, and wouldn’t that be a fitting end, here? torn to pieces, strewn across the grass, a world silent save for the artificial breeze— as long as it was by aventurine’s hand. that could be enough, he thinks.

of course, that piercing bite doesn’t come. what does is still enough to evoke a soft moan, even as he wishes the fang digging in to his neck would feel his pulse from the inside of his vein, not the outside. it’s a shame that bruises fade; this one will surely be a treasure for as long as it lasts.

the sudden shift and his new instructions take a moment to land, preoccupied by the physicality of the moment as kirma is. though there’s a clear lack of understanding as he takes the offered lube, ears swiveling forward as if there’s some secret whisper that might explain it, the context is enough for him to piece the rest together. no sex ed 101 today. his eyes flick back upwards to aventurine’s face, and the sharp exhale that comes is dangerously close to a laugh of his own. )

Then watch.

( this position isn’t the most convenient for getting undressed in, either, but at least he can slip out of enough of his pants to make things work. with one leg already hiked up by virtue of having nowhere else to go, it’s a simple matter to spread the other wide; equally simple, then, to pour some of the vial’s contents out onto his fingers, reaching around from behind to slide one into himself. can’t block the view, after all. his movements are slow, a deliberate sort of drawn out, even as one finger becomes two and his hips lift in order to drive them deeper into himself. his cock rests along the curve of one hip, half-hard but certainly not suffering from a lack of direct attention— being the subject of aventurine’s predatory gaze goes a long way. )

( for all intended purposes, it is a captivating show to watch. aventurine sits back, awkward and uncomfortable, but none of it matters in light of said predatory gaze consuming every inch of kirma. he hadn't had the chance before, after all, on their mid ass first time that seems so far into the past now. aventurine might just prefer it this way, unsure whether it's his real feelings, the play-pretend ones, or something corrupted by the fervent instincts inside of him.

he wants to eat kirma, but not in the way that his family had been eaten. it feels more intimate, the tingling desire at the back of his throat, the way aventurine clenches his jaw and gives kirma his undivided attention, the slow movements of his fingers, the hallucination that it could be him, instead, his fingers then himself and kirma would be stripped bare and covered in marks and bleeding and begging—

at some point, aventurine had taken ahold of one of his legs, lifted it onto his shoulder, sinking his nails onto his calf. it would disrupt the flow of such cute little show, yes, but could aventurine really keep watching without doing anything?

he turns his head towards the leg, and bites down right on top of the nail marks, hard, and tastes blood on his lips. face flushed as it is, not once had aventurine turned his gaze elsewhere. )

Such a handsome dog that you are, ( man, he had meant, but the word escapes his lips unnoticed. with his own tail wagging behind him, aventurine laps at the biting mark, resists the temptation of sinking his teeth down again, deep, deeper, ripping skin and flesh and muscle and wondering, for a moment, how he would taste— ) Had I known you look this good under me, I wouldn't have let you be on top that other time.

( as he sets kirma's leg down, aventurine reaches for his hips, brings him closer to him with a tight grip, the shape of his own erection through his pants awkward against him, but what matters the most is the friction, which he purrs in response. )

A shame you're not a cute bunny. I would have had so much fun making you mine. ( and here, aventurine feigns a sudden realization, ) Do you think if I fuck you enough I can turn you into one?

( so it’s his blood being spilled, today. it’s a funny little callback to their previous encounter, to be sure; the muscle tenses under aventurine’s teeth, then relaxes, accepting of whatever he wants from him— and it’s almost disappointing, when he holds back. almost, because the words spilling from aventurine’s bloodied lips are as thrilling as having the flesh stripped from his bones. even if the word dog makes a hot embarrassment bloom in his chest, so too does it make him shudder. such a demeaning praise, but—

as long as aventurine’s eyes are on him, isn’t that what matters most? )

The little game hasn’t changed me yet, so—

( perhaps it’s a possibility. if only it were so easy; if only he could simply become something useful, a prey worth chasing. slick fingers come out to pull at aventurine’s waistband, craving something more than simple pressure. )

You know you’re the only one I’d let try.

( at some point, his free hand manages to make its way to aventurine’s shoulder, clawing at him, trying to draw him closer, down; it finds the back of his neck, tangling in his hair, giving little tugs that are easily brushed aside, but… the desire behind them is clear. hasn’t he done well at preparing himself, doesn’t he deserve a reward for his efforts? )

( that's a siren's call, but not one aventurine, blinded by desire and the fervent instinct of predator, can really fight against. he licks his lips in response, as though the feast before him is one he will eat to the brim. the idea is too tempting, like a box full of surprises. it takes every inch of self-control not to jump him there, and have his way with him.

no. he has time aplenty. kirma had invited him here, wanted him to be here, and maybe, luckily, as aventurine always is, he'll be the first to him. despite his body's first opposition to even touching another canine of far less worth, the idea that he could actually become a delicious bunny is too much.

so, and with all the awkwardness that comes with moving in their position, he attempts to roll kirma to the side, if only to give him room to bring a hand to the base of that fluffy tail, one aventurine has always wondered how sensitive it is. part of him wants to yank it off of him, that maybe there would be a cute, fluffy bunny tail right underneath. though his fingers grip around it, they do not pull.

with the worn-out experience of a man who has done this one too many times, aventurine undoes his belt and pants with a swift hand, pulling himself out. everything else happens with little ceremony - one of kirma's legs, that he throws over his shoulder, the way he aligns himself neatly and enters with unsurprising ease. kirma had done a good job, and aventurine's way swishes contently in response. )

When you turn into a cute bunny, ( when, not if, and aventurine kisses kirma's calf between words, not moving quite yet, ) don't let anyone else have their way with you, okay?

Edited 2024-05-31 23:52 (UTC)

( there are little things about this encounter that kirma will think back on— is probably thinking on now, in the present of this timestamp— things that hint at the kind of life that aventurine might have had, long before this place. that curiosity is tucked away for now, too easily subsumed by the heat of the moment. aventurine's cock is good enough on its own, but the hand plying his tail is what really pulls a whine out of him, a spot already tender even before the conceit of this game.

of course the yapper is going to draw things out unreasonably, though. without actually having been transformed (yet?), he isn't quite so needy as to be demanding and desperate. this also doesn't mean he's entirely complacent— his back curves as he moves to lay his hand over the one on his tail, forcing aventurine's fingers to curl tighter around it, letting him feel the shiver of his body the pressure creates. )

I'll be yours— ( a dangerous line, the kind that makes him have to pause and exhale before continuing, ) only if you claim me well enough.

( of course, he doesn't doubt that he will. the sting at his calf holds too much promise, combined with the predatory bent of the man above him. that surety does little to grant him patience. )

( challenges are good - aventurine is certainly fond of them. but the unruly dance of feelings making a mess of his head rids him of reason, and this, too, will be something for future kirma to think back on, perhaps wonder if there has ever been anything to it: that in spite of a now smaller part of him still wishing to belittle and spat on a filthy dog, a much bigger part looks at him with unfiltered yearning.

it's all about the prospect of something. there's no certainty that kirma will turn into a bunny for him to feast on, perhaps not even a guarantee that aventurine will be the only one to have him - but it's a gamble, and doesn't aventurine just love those?

so be it, then. a challenge, a bet, a gamble, a game. his fingers are guided to curl further around his tail and do so obediently, and when he at last pulls on it, perhaps a tad unforgiving for the man aventurine actually is, underneath all of his masks and roles, it is alongside the first real thrust of his hips, and he allows the both of them the relief of an actual, thank-fucking-god not mid fuck.

more, though. this isn't enough. there's saliva pooling inside his mouth, threatening to drool and spill out. he leans forward, down closer to where the nook between neck and shoulder meet before he sinks his fangs down on skin, biting and marking and claiming him. would they be seen, later, when they're clothed again? the idea of it has him stiffen and throb inside of kirma in spite of his movements, and if not - again, a challenge and a gamble -, then isn't all that aventurine has to do is just mark him all over?

how is that, for a claim that would have lasting consequences, far beyond the mere game of fox and bunny? )

Edited (sorryyyyy typooo hehe) 2024-06-16 05:18 (UTC)

( maybe unforgiving is what he needs, right now, in this time before he learns the actual shape of the man fucking him, caught up in the frenzy of a predator's game. it's not as though a little harsh treatment is against his interests; clearly, from the way he keeps his throat bared while his breath catches under aventurine's teeth, it's not an unwelcome feeling at all. every bruise is a souvenir, enough to look at and wonder on later, to ache with the memory of months down the line.

the hand on aventurine's shifts to latch onto his wrist instead, not an attempt at removal but an anchor. his other hand finds its way into aventurine's hair, trying to pull him down, closer, desperate to be devoured— literally or figuratively, it doesn't matter. either one is welcomed with adoration, worship given in the form of soft, panting whines in tune with each bite. like this, one could almost forget he's the one due to earn a reward from the encounter. )

Aven— ( of course the first coherent thing he moans would be his name; what else would it be? some breathless plea, imploring him for more or harder— surely the way his nails dig into his arm communicate that enough on their own, or the way his hips shift despite the awkwardness of their unfortunate choice of bench, trying to find some, any angle to take him the slightest bit deeper.

makes you wonder why he ever thought to let kirma top the first time, honestly. )

( more, then. in every way: a more frantic pace of his hips, a firmer pull of his tail, and the neck, then, where aventurine chooses to bite next. there. there people will see, there it will be remembered, there it will be a souvenir and a mark and maybe a matching brand.

aventurine pulls away still, enough to admire the red marks of teeth and the alluring flowing of blood through broken skin. it's an unusual and unique look in his eyes - utter adoration, something like pride blooming in his chest. he returns to plant a gentle kiss on kirma's cheek, despite all, a satisfied purring in his voice. )

You're doing so well, my cute bunny. I can't wait for everyone else to know you're mine. ( this is what we call foreshadowing.

but for an aventurine who has long lost reason to the frenzied state of his unruly mind, so taken by thoughts of longing and lust and possessiveness, it makes perfect sense, this course of action. in his mind he will cover kirma in little gifts for him to show off, bite marks and loving kisses all over, seen and unseen.

weird, too, that there's a particular, exquisite warmth in his chest. something he has not felt in so many years. something he could almost mistake for genuine happiness, for being able to have someone to call his again, and mean it.

but this isn't quite the thread for that, is it? )

( why the tenderness, he’d ask, were it not the very thing that steals his breath away the most. the contrast between the soft lips at his cheek and the blood trickling down his neck from that same mouth makes his chest twist into a bundle of knots, tangled in a wanting that runs deeper than the superficial heat of the game. mine, he says, and the sigh that escapes kirma is one of delight. oh, if only it could truly be so, that aventurine’s sheer force of will could remake him into something better, more suiting for the intensity shining in his eyes, and— if only such a feeling would fade along with the game, once this week ends. still, it remains an intoxicating thought. being wanted, and… belonging. )

I’m not yours… yet.

( even that admission makes him dizzy, to acknowledge that eventuality. neither of them even know how deep that will run, the way the echoes of their silly little play (for that’s all it is, once they have clearer minds again) will resonate across the rest of their hours here.

that, too, is for another thread. in this one, kirma’s palm slides down to aventurine’s neck, unconsciously brushing along the edge of his brand. his eyes don’t stray from aventurine’s face, not even as he bites the corner of his mouth to hide a fleeting smile— or draw attention to it, perhaps. )

Rabbits are wily animals, after all. ( maybe some of that yapperism is infectious? maybe it’s too easy to follow aventurine’s lead. ) They’ll slip right out of your jaws if you aren’t careful—

( said like his breath isn’t hitching in time with his thrusts, clipping the end of his words, sounding dangerously close to moans. all he knows is that he doesn’t want to lose that gaze to the complacency that comes with victory before he’s done drowning in it. )

( yet. it's fine. this aventurine is patient enough to wait. the aventurine who's overcome with feelings of possessiveness, of want and longing. an aventurine who is so easily egged on by words, challenged, where the tail behind him wags in excitement. truly, this is a sort of happiness he hasn't felt in a long time - perhaps something akin to adrenaline, the appeal of the hunt, chasing and being chased.

the shift is awkward, due to their positions, but he tries nonetheless without fear of mistakes; holstered by the tail, his grip forces kirma on his knees, this time. maybe it's an easier position, for the narrow space they're in, but even then, aventurine cares little. a kiss is placed next to the base of his tail, closer to his ass, before he enters him again. )

That just means I will have to hold you close, doesn't it? ( funny how things are, right now, in reflection of the future. but what aventurine means is that his fingers will be tight, around such fluffy and cute tail. ) So you don't run away from me.

( or, better yet, if each of his thrusts are rough in nature, maybe he could fuck kirma stupid enough not to even attempt to slip out of his grasp. with wobbly and weak legs, unable to take a step, wouldn't that be nice? aren't all of those thoughts just a reflection of his actions, especially when aventurine bends over to take kirma's shoulder in his mouth, too, and leave there another bloody bite?

another mark to be remembered, one he laps at the blood, gently. it's a wicked sort of affection, but one that suits aventurine just fine. )

( it's fine to be manhandled— welcomed, maybe, with the lack of resistance given, only a breathy noise of something bordering on impatience. certainly, there's no effort to slip out of aventurine's grasp. there is a pause all the same, a held breath in response to words that brush dangerously close to a desire that exists outside of the acceptance of the house's conceit that they have allowed to form around themselves. of course, it isn't that; and of course, in this moment, kirma thinks: it probably won't ever be.

funny, indeed.

such a thing is a brief blip in the space of their game, a hitch easily mistaken for being out of pleasure or desire. kirma's hands curl around the edge of the bench for a supporting brace, back arching in his new position to better push aventurine's cock deeper inside him. there's a crazy thought there— something like, if this is supposed to be mating season, that maybe if he fucks him hard enough he can make that into reality, leave him drooling and full of cum and ready for the next generation, right here in the middle of the vale. that definitely, absolutely is the house's idea, and not his, not what he wants, probably, but— )

More— ( is about all he gets to say, before there's teeth sinking into his shoulder, losing the rest of his demands to a shuddering gasp. a hand comes up to grab a fistful of aventurine's hair, keeping him from pulling away; a tacit encouragement to keep going, to bite deeper, to stain the wood so thoroughly none will ever be able to deny the transformation that happened here. )

( and who's aventurine to deny such tempting request, overcome with his own instincts and desires as he is? there is a world out there where this is the path he has taken; one where he forgets the pain and misery he has lived through, embracing elation, welcoming the joys of life without a care in the world. it feels much like this, perhaps - accepting each one of his feelings, indulging in them, sinking down teeth into skin as requested, sucking on it, biting on marks left behind to add more marks on top of it.

it's a shame he can't sink teeth to every inch of kirma's body; though his imagination does him quite the favor in picturing how good he would have looked covered in bite marks, reddened and some dripping blood. underneath him, begging and wanting, with no room to run or escape, if the thought ever crossed his mind. in such unrealistic, wicked fantasy, maybe aventurine could babytrap him - wouldn't it be nice? to fuck kirma deep enough so many times he would have no choice but to give birth to the largest litter of golden puppies with avgin eyes the universe has seen—

lord.

allowing his imagination to run wild is enough to him, at least. the only warning kirma gets is a particularly sharp bite to his neck and the leverage pull of his tail, exerting little care as he pulls his ass further up so aventurine can spill deep inside of him. the ecstasy of it feels heavenly, almost, a particular feeling he so rarely feels. give enough time, and aventurine might even regret some of his actions here - but for now, out of breath as he is, he pulls back, pulls out, still holding onto kirma's tail but admiring the sight of him all the time. it's quite the masterpiece, if aventurine has ever seen one. )

Bunny or not, we should do this again. ( #BringTopAventurineBack ) You're cuter than I thought, too.

( there is a part of him that thinks— it really is a shame it didn't work. that aventurine is already pulling away and moving on, even as kirma can feel the way his eyes still burn into him without turning back to see. ah, that's not to say he's gone without his own satisfactions; rough handling and a deep thrust can do plenty on their own even without the added impress of game's haze, but it's a lonely thing, groaned against wood and dripping between the slats of the bench to the dirt below. a familiar notification chimes on his phone, and that truly spells the end of this little encounter, for all its ups and downs.

at least they've learned something about each other in this. little details, about trust and violence and— an unwillingness to move right now, his ears folded back and his tail still raised. there is some measure of optimism to be had in aventurine's words, though; that there is company and time to be shared there again, even if only in pretense for the dance of fifty-two.

#BringTopAventurineBack )

We'll see. What happens.

( said in a voice smaller and softer than normal, and there was never much voice to begin with, to reduce. it's here kirma twists back to look at him, the smug confidence of a fox that rolls off his presence, the way it makes him have to clamp down on the dizzy thought that he'd very much like to kiss him, stupid and full of puppies as he is.

well. that last part is a distant hope that (unfortunately) only continues to recede with each passing breath, but— )

... Don't leave me waiting forever. ( 🥺 )

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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😟

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here's the no romo you ordered

thanks i wanna kms

no refunds

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cw for casual mentions of gore lmao

cw light vore mentions and suicidal ideation kinda ???

cw for cannibalism and gore :(

you mean :)

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enough good times let's get back to the weird times

idk they were happier here at least .

i hope you freeze to death on that bus

i lived bitch

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